Chapter Seventeen
Garrett sailed past a startled Marcy James and slipped through Rhett’s closed office door. His boss reclined in his big office chair and faced the glass wall looking out over downtown Palm Beach. Only the top of his head was visible above the back cushion.
“Rhett, we have a problem,” Garrett announced, halting in front of Rhett’s desk.
The body in the chair didn’t move.
He waited a full minute. “Did you hear what I just said? We have a problem. As in serious situation. As in possible disaster. As in jam, predicament, quagmire. Am I getting through to you?”
Slowly the chair swiveled away from the window, and Garrett fought to hide his shock.
Dark circles had formed beneath Rhett’s eyes, and the lines at his eyes and mouth creased deeper than Garrett had ever seen them.
Dark stubble covered his chin and jaws, but the despair radiating from his eyes brought the greatest shock.
Rhett’s bloodshot eyes stared back at him.
“When was the last time you slept?” Garrett demanded angrily. “You look terrible.”
Rhett shrugged noncommittally.
“I’m assuming your condition has something to do with Lily. I called Tammy this morning, and she gave me the cold brush off, said she was going to a code-enforcement meeting downtown and wouldn’t say why. But I have a good idea as to the why.”
Rhett stared blankly.
“Snap out of it, dammit!” Garrett marched to his chair, grabbed both arms, and shook the chair until he got a glare from Rhett.
“She’s gone,” Rhett muttered. “I’ve lost her, permanently this time.”
“We’ll worry about what you did later, but if we don’t get to the Jupiter Town Hall by ten a.m., I can guarantee you have lost Lily forever.” He let go of the chair arms.
“What are you talking about?” Rhett snarled.
Garrett almost breathed a sigh of relief. He finally had his friend’s attention.
“You asked me to do some background checking on our short list of development parcels, and I did. I’ve always kept a mole on the inside with our legal team. It’s a personal problem I have. You know, trusting lawyers and all.” He shrugged with chagrin.
Rhett’s eyes briefly flared.
“Turns out Whittenhurst is still working on the Jupiter parcel, only not for us. My mole hacked into his emails, checked on calls from his personal cell phone, the works.” He moved his hands to his hips.
“Whittenhurst pulled a fast one on you, Rhett, and he’s trying to purchase that parcel himself—on the side—with at least two other partners.
My guess is Whittenhurst intends to be one of the silent partners, and a more visible partner will try to sell the property back to you or someone else at one hell of a profit for their small team. ”
Rhett’s jaw clenched. “Who are the partners?”
“Only one will be of interest to you. Chester Armstead. My mole hasn’t discovered who the other one is yet.”
Rhett stared intently at him for several long moments, then his expression went blank.
“Stick with me.” Garrett shook the chair again. “I’m not done.”
The green eyes flared again.
“The parcel isn’t vacant like we assumed. There happens to be a business on that property in Jupiter.” He waited.
“What business?”
“A landscape nursery.”
Rhett sat bolt upright. “What?”
“Bloom & Grow Nursery to be specific. I also found out your devious attorney is headed for a code-compliance hearing on the parcel in downtown Jupiter at ten this morning. Whittenhurst is trying to steal Lily’s land.”
~ ~ ~ ~
Aidan’s secretary poked her head out in the hall where he had his chief financial officer cornered and sweating.
“Mr. Cross, a Carstairs Whittenhurst is on the phone and says it’s urgent that he speak to you immediately.” She darted a glance at Aidan’s withered finance officer. “Do you want me to take a message?”
Aidan glared at his chief bean counter. “We’re not finished. I’ll get back to you later.” He strode past his secretary, headed for his office. “Patch Whittenhurst through when I get in here.”
He snatched up the receiver when he reached his desk. “What’ve you got for me, Whittenhurst?”
“I am about to pick up that parcel on the Intracoastal in Jupiter we discussed—big enough for a golf resort—and I intend to flip it. Still interested?”
“Why would BDC let the parcel go?” he questioned.
“It’s not BDC’s parcel.”
Aidan had thought long and hard about the opportunity ever since Whittenhurst had first mentioned the property. “Buchanan has wanted a golf-resort parcel in Jupiter longer than I have. Why isn’t he flipping this one? Or developing it for that matter. What’s wrong with it?”
He could hear Whittenhurst’s annoyed inhale through the phone.
“There’s nothing wrong with the property,” Whittenhurst retorted. “And the parcel will belong to me, not BDC. This is my personal deal.”
“Isn’t that a conflict of interest? You work for BDC and pick up a parcel you know they want, then sell it to their chief competitor?”
“There is no conflict. I only consult for BDC. I am on retainer, not a BDC employee. It’s perfectly legal,” Whittenhurst said icily.
Just not very ethical.
“You said you were picking up the parcel cheap. What’s wrong with it?” Aidan prodded.
“Not a damn thing. Look, Cross, are you interested or not?”
“Hell yeah, I’m interested. Just curious, that’s all. I don’t know of any open parcels left on the Intracoastal in Jupiter.”
“I never said it was open,” Whittenhurst replied, his tone smug enough Aidan considered banging the receiver on his desk to rattle the pompous ass. Did they teach these guys arrogance in law school?
“So what’s on it?”
Whittenhurst sniffed. “A business in trouble.”
“What kind?”
“Does it matter?”
“Hell yes, it matters.” Aidan’s fingers tightened as he reconsidered pounding the receiver on the desk a few times.
Damned if he would let himself get stuck with a property flip needing a couple million dollars’ worth of remediation.
“I’m not interested unless you’ve done due diligence.
I don’t buy commercial property that hasn’t had a phase one environmental audit.
You know better than that, Whittenhurst.”
The arrogant weasel had the nerve to chuckle at him.
“You would if I put a million dollars in a three-month escrow until the audit could be completed post sale.”
Aidan sat back. Whittenhurst had just covered the risk and surprised him in the process. He still smelled a rat in this woodpile.
“What kind of business is there now, and what trouble is it in?”
Whittenhurst let loose a long and clearly exasperated sigh. “Some little landscape nursery that requires more renovations to keep going than it can afford.”
“A landscape nursery,” Aidan repeated softly.
“Yes, in fact I’m headed over to the Town Hall in Jupiter now for a code compliance meeting to find out just how much work is required.
I’ve already been in touch with the property owner, and I’m going to make them an offer today.
One they can’t afford to refuse.” He cleared his throat.
“Look, I need your answer now. I have other interested buyers, and I need to flip this property.”
No doubt for financial reasons, Aidan thought. Flipping saved Whittenhurst having to actually pay for the property. A creative contract got him in and out with very little out-of-pocket money extended.
“Why me?” he had to ask.
“I like doing business with you. Is that so hard to believe?”
You bet your ass it is. More like you want to stick it to Rhett for his high-handed way with attorneys.
Aidan preferred to trick attorneys into doing what he wanted. “Where is this nursery?”
There was silence on the other end, and he checked the readout to be sure he was still connected. He was.
“Whittenhurst—”
The shmuck laughed smugly, and Aidan wanted to reach through the phone and squeeze the arrogant jerk’s neck until his eyes bugged out. The weasel had been baiting him.
Every transaction with Whittenhurst, and there hadn’t been many for obvious reasons, had been like this.
Aidan could buy and sell the guy twenty times over, but Whittenhurst insisted on his contemptuous antics.
The only reason Aidan put up with the jerk was his ability—for lack of a better word—to sniff out prime real estate.
Aidan always got the better part of the deal.
He made sure of that, and Whittenhurst was none the wiser.
“The property is next door to the Bullock Warehouses on Federal Highway,” the ass said. “Listen, Cross, I’m almost to the Town Hall. I’ll call you in a couple hours, and I’ll expect your final answer. When I have the deed in hand, so to speak.”
“What’s the addr—” Aidan was talking to a dial tone.
He stifled the growl rumbling in his throat, pressed his intercom button, and when his secretary answered, said, “Find out what properties border the Bullock Warehouses on Federal Highway in Jupiter.”
He hung up and dialed Garrett Tucker’s office and was told Garrett was out of the office and had left for a meeting with Rhett Buchanan. Two more calls to both Garrett’s and Rhett’s cell phones got voicemail each time.
His secretary buzzed in. “There’s a strip mall anchored by an Auto Zone store on the north side and a landscape nursery called Bloom & Grow on the south side.”
Aidan stilled.
Lily’s nursery. What the hell was Whittenhurst up to?
“Mr. Cross?”
He shook himself. “Get Jared Dawkins on the phone,” he barked. “Tell him to get one of his choppers here now, or I’ll find a new shuttle service. Tell him I need a ride to the Jupiter Town Hall.”
~ ~ ~ ~
Lily wheeled her Toyota Tundra off Military Trail and into the parking lot behind the Jupiter Town Hall to find an available space. Tammy pulled her Jeep in right behind her.
“The Special Magistrate is an attorney appointed by the Town Council from a qualified list they draw from,” Tammy said when Lily and Rob had climbed out of the truck and caught up to her.
“The Magistrate can subpoena witnesses and evidence as needed for a hearing, so no telling what we can expect today.”